


Heart of Grapeknight: Only if for a Knight

by WeCouldPretend



Series: Jokes We Took Just Far Enough [2]
Category: Arthurian Legends - Fandom, Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bors is really trying his best here, But it really doesn't stick, Crack Treated Seriously, Good Dad Bors, Good Dad Lancelot, Grail Quest, Holy Grail, It's been a long couple months, Mordred's a snarky piece of shit, Other, Shippy if you have eyeballs at all, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Temporary Character Death, no not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26959570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeCouldPretend/pseuds/WeCouldPretend
Summary: So this was a challenge from friends with the prompt of "major character death" "there was only one bed" and a surprise one you get to find out from reading.The Grail has been found, and it's now killing Galahad. It's Bors' job to get him and a distraught Percival back home to Camelot in order to bring home his corpse to Lancelot. Of course, absolutely nothing goes as planned.
Series: Jokes We Took Just Far Enough [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967320
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Heart of Grapeknight: Only if for a Knight

Please, Abbot, you must have a room somewhere,” Bors sighed, trying hard to keep his wits about him as he put rationale before his emotions. The two young knights behind him needed shelter, sooner rather than later.

“I think we only have one spare room left, but you’re welcome to use it.” the Abbot said, swiftly moving out of the way of the door and motioning the trio inside. Bors nodded his thanks quickly and rushed back towards where he’d left Percival and Galahad, near the horses. 

Galahad looked ashen, his eyes were seemingly sunken into his paling skin. Percival sat with him, supporting the other knight with his own body. Galahad had lost the strength to sit upright about a mile back, forcing Percival to ride double with him in the last stretch of their journey. 

“Let’s get you inside, see what we can do about this.” Bors tried for comfort as he picked Galahad up. The kid weighed almost nothing. He must have lost thirty pounds in less than a day, almost all of it in muscle mass. It broke his heart to feel it. Two weeks ago, this same boy had beat him in a wrestling match by the fire, now he couldn’t hold himself upright.

“There is nothing to be done. Just find me somewhere to rest and I’ll explain what I can.” Galahad gasped, trying to keep his breathing steady as he was jostled by the older Knight.

Bors decided it would be better not to answer, better to focus on following the Abbot through the halls to the small bedroom that they had been willing to allow them to stay in. For a few minutes, the only sounds were an occasional sniff from Percival, Galahad’s ragged breathing, and their footsteps on the stones. The abbot eventually motioned for them to step through a door and into a tiny bedroom. 

He skittered out of the way as Bors burst in, quickly setting Galahad down in the bed. From the doorway, he commented, “I’ll send for a healer, we have one staying with us on a pilgrimage who should be able to help.”

“No, Father, I am afflicted with a holy illness. It shall not leave me until I have no more to give. Thank you for your kindness and God be with you. Please, see to it that we are not disturbed tonight.” Galahad’s voice had an eerie, ethereal effect to it that left no room for argument. It was only after the Abbot had scurried away like a little mouse that he relaxed into a passable remnant of the person Percival and Bors had spent the last several months traveling with. 

“Galahad, tell us what happened.” Bors’ voice left no room for argument. Galahad had stumbled out of the Temple of the Grail yesterday morning, already weak with the effort of completing whatever ritual had been demanded of him in the hours of the night. 

“We have achieved our goal, my friends. The Holy Grail has been found. I’m not allowed to say more than that, I’m afraid.” He laughed weakly, extending a hand for Percy to hold as the young man crept closer. “I’m so sorry to do this all to you, but soon I’ll lose all ability to speak. You’ve both watched my rapid degeneration since I left the temple. It is a price I pay as the Grail Knight. Soon the Grail will siphon all of my body’s energy into itself. It is imperative that you get my body back to my father in Camelot as soon as I am no longer conscious to feel it. Take tonight, rest, gather your strength. Have a good meal in the morning. Then ride home as fast as you dare. My body will be preserved by the magic of the Grail, even if it seems to be very different to you both. I just ask that you trust me.” The soliloquy, uttered in the absolute silence of the room, seemed to cost Galahad a great deal of his remaining strength. 

Percy gripped tightly onto Galahad’s hand, tears welling in his eyes again. “How much longer… do we… do you have?”

“Oh Percy, come here.” Galahad sighed, affection written across his gaunt face. It appeared more skeletal by the minute. The shorter knight quickly knelt next to Galahad as the blonde knight tried to comfort his crying companion. “Don’t worry, we’ll see each other again. This isn’t forever.” 

Bors, more than capable of reading a room, decided to give Percival and Galahad a few minutes to sort themselves out. Ever the pragmatic commander, Bors quickly left to get himself and Percival their bedrolls from their horses, fetch them both food, and see that the horses were stabled and fed.

“But it is for right now! We said we were going to do this together!” Percival sobbed, putting his head down on Galahad’s chest. 

“I know, I know.” Galahad put his hand gently on Percival’s head, attempting to comfort him. “But I promise, I’ll see you again.”

“God truly must have granted you clairvoyance for you to be so certain.” Percival murmured, withdrawing his head to look at Galahad again. 

“Among other things.” Galahad’s tight smile was as close to God as Percival had ever felt. “Now come, dry your eyes and pull the stool up from the washbasin. Keep me company for a time.” 

When Bors got back with everything he needed in his hands, Galahad was fading in and out of consciousness. It was a piteous thing to see, the skeletal form of the son of one of his best friends, his nephew almost, so emaciated. At least the kid seemed in good cheer about it. 

“Ah, good, Commander, you’re back.” Galahad greeted him, watching as he set down the food on the washstand and their packs on the floor. “Is everything ready for tomorrow?”

Bors nodded solemnly, not wanting to disturb whatever fragile peace Galahad had built for Percival. The other boy, understandably still distraught, was making an effort not to be overly emotional for Galahad’s sake. 

“Good. You should both eat and turn in for the night. I’m exhausted, and I know you both are as well. We’re homeward bound now.” Galahad managed, though the words clearly cost him. 

“Shall I fetch the father for last rites?” Bors mentioned, considerately weighing the option of having a priest in here against Galahad’s wishes of half an hour previous. 

“No, I have made my peace. The sacrament would not apply to this.” Galahad’s words were little more than a sigh. 

“Very well. Let’s eat.” Bors set the plate of simple food in Percival’s lap, and both began to eat. The meal and subsequent setup of the bedrolls on the stone floor were accomplished in the same companionable silence that much of their trip had consisted of. The silence of a job thoroughly done and a meal quickly eaten. 

A tearful goodbye followed, and Galahad repeated his instructions one last time, although Bors had already planted them firmly into his memory. Percival’s tearful goodbye was heart-wrenching, but after a few minutes, Galahad and Bors managed to get him to lay down in his own bedroll. Bors knew that when he snuffed out the candle, it would be the last time he ever saw Galahad alive. 

The next morning was incredibly difficult. Bors, weary with his grief and that of Percival’s, managed to make an apology to the priests of the abbey, borrowing a burial shroud for the Grail Knight and packing up to make their way back to Camelot. Galahad’s body was positively skeletal. He weighed hardly anything and Bors could count every bone in his body. He’d crossed his arms in his last moments, folding them across his chest, with each fist resting on the opposite shoulder. A safe way to transport him. He was stiff as a board and no blood or bile remained. He had been drained completely dry by the effects of the Holy Grail. It was a week’s hard ride back home, but Galahad’s dying wish was that they make it there as soon as possible in order to bring him home to his father. 

Percival spent most of the way home weeping uncontrollably into his cloak, the silent tears tracing silver lines down his face making Bors ache. He’d promised Lancelot that he’d look after them. He hadn’t been able to bring them all home alive, and the failure that he had survived when Galahad had not was a sting he was well familiar with. But he allowed no delay, not for grief or exhaustion or his own shortcomings. He had to get this boy home.

  
  


The gates of Camelot swung open for them as they approached and they were let into one of the smaller ports of the large compound. The private one. Neither Percival nor Bors wanted to have to do this in a public place. This was an entrance reserved solely for the knights of the round table and the royal family. 

Bors and Percival quickly unloaded the unchanged corpse from the makeshift bier they’d created to carry him. Still wrapped in his burial shroud, they set him gently on the cobbles of the courtyard. Bors had just clambered to his feet when the door from the interior burst open and the High King and Queen, their oldest child, and their Champion all spilled out of the keep. They were across the courtyard in seconds, all hastening to hear of the quest.

“Bors! Bors what news!” Lancelot called, cheerful for half a moment before he caught sight of Percival unwrapping the burial shroud.

“Lance, I’m so sorry, I- I did the best that I could but-” Bors choked, unable to look his friend in the eyes. He’d trusted Bors with his son, and all Bors had done was bring him back this horrible shriveled corpse that was barely recognizable. “He’s dead.”

Lancelot stood frozen for a moment, staring at the corpse of his son as Guinevere and Arthur quickly turned to comfort each other. Behind him, Bors could hear Percival start to cry as well, well acquainted with the familiar heaving sobs. 

Lancelot however, just blinked in shock and prodded his dead son with the toe of his boot. “Well, I mean, he’s only mostly dead.” The rest of the grouped people just turned to stare at him in shock. “What? He’s not dead!” 

“It’s true!” Mordred crowed, pushing past his parents and hurrying over to Lancelot’s side. He quickly knelt over the shriveled corpse, legs straddling his hips, positioning one hand just under where Galahad had crossed his arms. He pressed downward. Percy let out a sharp choking shriek as a snapping noise echoed through the courtyard. And Mordred’s hand sank through Galahad’s chest like it was passing through the surface of a still pond. He grasped something hidden just under the surface and pulled it through. 

A shimmering chalice was gripped in Mordred’s hand. The spot he’d just shoved his hand into was entirely untouched. No cracks, no breaks, just an unharmed tunic over leathery skin. 

“Behold, the legendary Holy Grail!” Mordred cackled, brandishing the cup at the Champion. Lancelot snatched it out of Mordred’s hands as the prince turned back to the shape underneath his own. 

As soon as Mordred had pulled the Grail out of his chest, the stiffness had leached out of Galahad’s limbs. Mordred tenderly put a hand to one of his wrinkled leather cheeks and held a thumb under his nose. “And he’s breathing! Just barely, but it’s there!” 

Arthur put his head in his hands and sighed loudly. The king looked as if he’d just had the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders. After a brief moment, he rounded on his champion and demanded what everyone was thinking. “Explain. Now.”

“Oh, he knew that the Grail required energy to be removed from the temple. He also knew that it would kill anything that touched it. That’s why he wouldn’t let you two,” Lancelot motioned to his child’s traveling companions as he talked, waiving the Holy Grail around as he did so. “come anywhere near it. He knew it’d kill you. But he also knew it wouldn’t kill him. So he just… stuck it into himself and let him drain him of energy until I could establish the Grail’s power here in the Camelot Leyline.” 

“That’s actually very smart.” Guinevere rationalized, wiping the tear tracks off her face with the sleeve of her dress. Suddenly all business yet again, Guinevere snatched the Grail out of Lancelot’s hands. “I’ll take care of this until we can get around to dealing with it properly.” Practical as ever, the Queen strode away, leaving everyone else to try to catch up with her train of thought. She called out over her shoulder, “I’m going to go get his rooms ready. Bring him in.”

“Are you sure?” Percy hiccuped, creeping closer to Mordred, entirely unable to stay away from either the companion he hadn’t seen in months or the one he’d assumed was dead. 

“Yes, of course. Come here.” Mordred motioned for Percy to come closer. Once he was in range, Mordred tugged the other knight gently onto his knees next to Galahad. Mordred carefully replaced his hand with Percival’s, holding his there with his own and letting the other Grail Knight feel the gentle, slow breaths coming out of Galahad’s nose. “Although, I do think we’ll need to draw Galahad a bath to…. rehydrate him.” 

“Oh, I was gonna just toss him in the river, but yours probably a better idea.” Lancelot mused, looking down at his son again. “It’s probably going to take longer than I was assuming.” 

“I’ll go get that started. Bors, why don’t you go get some sleep. You’ve done more than enough for now. We’ll let you know when he comes round.” Arthur clapped his friend on the shoulder, shocking him out of the stupor he’d been in for the last few minutes. “Come on, you need rest. You’ve been through absolute hell. We’ll take care of the boys now.” 

Lancelot made sure that Arthur and Bors we’re inside safely before he turned back to Galahad, Mordred, and Percival. “Ok boys, clear off. I need to pick him up and take him in. We really shouldn’t leave it any longer than we need to.” 

The pair of boys quickly scrambled away from Galahad, giving his father plenty of room to stoop down and scoop him off of the cobbles. Meanwhile, Mordred was helping Percy off of his knees. The exhausted knight was trembling with the myriad of emotions he’d just been hit over the head with.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. He’ll be safe in a few hours and I’ll take great care of him, I promise.” Mordred pulled the trembling knight into his arms, holding him tightly. 

“He- he said- he said he knew he’d see me again!” Percival wailed into the crook of Mordred’s shoulder, wanting to cry and having no tears left to give. “He said it wasn’t forever!” 

“Yeah he’s a right dramatic bastard, isn’t he. It’s just his style to make vague but correct promises and not just spit out his plan.” Mordred commiserated, patting Percy on the back gently. “But he was right. He’ll see you in like four hours tops. Come on, let’s go sit with him. I’m sure we can convince Mom to bring us some of the good biscuits while we wait.” 

Percy nodded, exhausted, and allowed the Prince to take his hand and guide him towards the designated bath room in the royal suite. Arthur had long praised Merlin for the Roman style of the room, and most of the Knights of the Round Table swung by to indulge in the private baths at least once or twice a week. The hot running water was, in Mordred’s opinion, the best thing about the castle. Today, Mordred was more glad for the hot, available water than he ever had been before. It meant that Galahad was probably already dunked into the water, in a bath that his father had been able to have immediate access to. Galahad would already be on the mend by the time they arrived. They climbed the stairs together, Mordred carefully leading Percival into the royal suite and into the bath room. 

Galahad was indeed already in one of the big stone baths that had been carved out of living rock to be exactly the right size to fit a singular knight. Lancelot had set him inside and had propped him up enough that his head would stay above water. Lancelot had also dragged one of the wooden benches over to the tub, and when he noticed the two boys enter, he motioned them over. 

“Boys, I need to go deal with the Grail. Do you think you can keep an eye on him while he heals? I’ll have food sent up for you in a few minutes,” Lancelot asked, looking quickly between the pair of them and his son in the bathtub. 

“Sure thing. We were gonna be here anyway, so it’s no trouble,” said Mordred with a shrug, not needing to look for Percy’s answer, as he knew it would be the same as his own. Lancelot nodded his thanks and quickly disappeared out of the door.

Mordred dragged Percival over to the bench and gently pushed him down onto it. “You need to sit. You’re gonna fall over and you’ll be no good to me or him if you faint and hurt yourself. Here, sit here and you can watch.” 

Mordred placed himself next to Percy, shoulders brushing, leaving him no space to accidentally tip himself off of the bench without Mordred being able to catch him. Satisfied that he’d be able to catch Percy, he turned his attention to Galahad. He’d been in the water less than fifteen minutes and already some of the water was beginning to reabsorb through his skin.

Time passed. Guinevere brought food in for them both and some extra food and water for if they got hungry or Galahad woke up. As the hours passed, Galahad slowly reinflated back toward a normal shape, and Percival fell asleep. First leaning on Mordred shoulder, and then at the prince’s urging, cushioned on his lap. Mordred hardly minded. He carefully folded his cloak underneath Percy’s head and took to carding his hands through Percy’s hair as he slept. Not even a siege weapon hitting the walls would have been able to wake the shorter Grail Knight now. 

Mordred had been supervising the combined rest of the Grail knights for three hours straight before Galahad stirred in the water and slowly opened his eyes. 

“Oh good, you’re awake! Gods, it’s good to see you alive again Galahad. Ok, don’t try to talk yet, just rest for a bit. I pulled the Grail out of your chest, and now Percy’s sleeping on my lap. You’re home. Just go back to sleep.” Mordred blurted, trying to jam all the requisite information into as little time as he could. Galahad nodded once, slowly, and closed his eyes again. 

He was breathing deeper now. Easier. Almost the way Percy was breathing. And every passing breath it seemed to get easier for Galahad, until a breath some two hours later when Galahad opened his eyes again and sat up. 

“Feeling a little more alive?” Mordred asked, smiling at the Grail Knight. 

“Yes… thanks” Galahad breathed, putting three breaths between the words. He had to work for the words, but his smile was easy and his eyes bright. It was enough for now. 

“Good. You’re a right bastard, you know that?” Mordred scolded, good-natured in his mocking as he always was with Galahad. 

“Why… this… time….” Galahad frowned, clearly trying to force his addled brain to figure out why Mordred was scolding. 

“You let poor Percy think you were dead. You put him and Bors through hell. He’s been inconsolable this whole time you monster.” 

Galahad merely rolled his eyes. “I…told… him...”

“Yeah, you told him some wishy-washy bullshit that he flat out didn’t believe. You’re too poetic, Gallie.” Mordred accused, carefully reaching out to brush Galahad’s hair out of his face without jostling the knight pillowed on his legs. 

“On… lap?” Galahad asked, looking as if he wanted to move to see where his traveling companion was laying. 

“Yes. And you’re gonna let him nap. And on that subject, you’re also gonna go back to sleep. Your dad should be up soon and he’s gonna have about a million questions. You both need rest. Just. Sleep,” Mordred insisted, reaching into the tub to take Galahad’s hand in his own for a brief squeeze. The Grail Knight smiled at him, succumbing to sleep once again. Safe in the knowledge that everything was once again right in the world. 

Mordred continued his vigil, switching between playing idly in the water and reading one of the books Arthur had brought up for him the second time he’d come up to check on them. The water stayed perfectly warm thanks to the remnants of Mordred’s magic lacing through it and Percival remained deep asleep on Mordred’s lap. The pair of Grail Knights continued to sleep off the combined exhaustion of the quest. Mordred was entirely content to fend off both parents and the cold in order to allow them both to rest. 

“You know, you didn’t have to stay here the whole time.”

“Holy shit Galahad, don’t scare me like that!” Mordred hissed, putting his book down next to him on the bench. He regarded Galahad critically, staring at his friend in the fading summer sunlight. He seemed almost right, like bread dough that needed a bit longer to rise before throwing it in the oven

“It’s very sweet of you to stay though!” Galahad smirked, pulling a healthy-looking hand out of the water to examine himself more thoroughly. “Very interesting…”

“Yeah, you were a full-on raisin. You looked like last winter’s cured meat. It was  _ hilarious _ .” Mordred drawled, motioning for him to keep his voice lower and indicating the person on his lap. Percy was still asleep. 

“How long have I been out?” Galahad asked, testing the elasticity of his skin and gingerly touching his face. He moved stiffly but seemed to have a full range of motion. An amazing amount of progress from how he’d been in the courtyard earlier. 

“Hard to say. About a week. You’ve been in the tub for about six hours. You should probably stay in there a little longer. You’re not quite all the way done puffing back up. So, how did you do it?” Mordred asked, carefully tugging Galahad’s hand away from his arm to get him to quit pulling at his own skin. 

‘Wouldn’t you like to know.” Galahad’s grin flashed sharp and fierce for a moment before fading back into the usual pleasant smile he wore. This dangerous side of him was one that he kept well in check in the presence of others, but Mordred had always had a knack for bringing out the best and the worst of his brutal side. 

“I see. For what is a God to a non-believer?” Mordred answered Galahad’s wolfish grin with a vulpine one of his own. For a few moments, the pair lapsed back into a comfortable silence, enjoying the ability to engage in their preferred type of parallel introspection together. Galahad had missed this chance to just exist in Mordred’s space without expectation of grand words or reassurances. Mordred knew that Galahad didn’t have all the answers. Galahad knew that Mordred expected nothing more and nothing less of him than what they already shared. 

“I suppose I really do owe Percy an apology, don’t I?” Galahad mused, finally shifting in the full tub to peer across their linked hands at the still sleeping knight. At the mention of his name, Percival began to stir, slowly coming back awake. 

“More than that, I’d say. He was a wreck. I wouldn’t be surprised if you get an entire armful of him when he comes round, despite the water,” chuckled Mordred, shaking the stirring Percival gently with his free hand. “Come on, Percy, Galahad’s awake!”

Percival blinked up at Mordred owlishly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes as he picked himself up off of Mordred’s lap. “Wha-” Percy sat bolt upright at seeing Galahad well and whole again. “You’re alive! You’re awake! Galahad, I was so worried!”

True to Mordred’s prediction, the shorter Grail Knight launched himself off of the bench and into a hug, ignoring the water soaking into his sleeves. Galahad stiffly hugged his companion back, patting him gently for a moment before gritting his teeth at having to hold his arms up. “Percy, you’re getting all wet, and I really shouldn’t be moving a lot yet.” 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Percy lept backward, flinging water absolutely everywhere and spattering Mordred with it. The prince wisely chose not to mention it, quickly climbing to his feet and fetching the extra food that Guinevere had brought up. Galahad must be starving after a week of stasis and six hours of healing. 

“No worries at all, I’m glad you finally got some sleep in! He’s a good pillow isn’t he?” said Galahad with a smile, watching how both Percival and Mordred flushed at the comment before turning back to Percival. “But I’m so sorry you thought I was dead, I just wanted to prepare you for the worst. I should have been clearer with my instructions. It won’t happen again,” he promised, attempting to be as apologetic as he could manage.    
  


“I’m just glad you’re safe.” Percival’s eyes were full of tears again. Behind him, Mordred’s hands were white on the tray. He had been avoiding how close Galahad’s brush with death had truly been. Just a few more hours and he really would have been a corpse. 

“None of that now, Percy, you’ve cried yourself into dehydration these last couple days. You both need to eat. Here-.,” Mordred ordered, setting a full water cup on the edge of the tub and handing Percival another tray of food. Galahad quickly moved to drink from the cup as Percival started to pick through the plate. 

It was a satisfying scene, even if it wasn’t the reunion Mordred had been envisioning for the end of the Grail Quest. Still. Things could have ended much worse. So much worse. Mordred watched for a moment, watching both Galahad and Percival strip off their now sopping shirts and begin to split up the food that Mordred had just set out. They were both here, and safe, and laughing. Mordred was his father’s son through and through, and, like his father, he knew when to accept the reality of a situation. Something settled in his chest as he watched the pair of Grail Knights bicker playfully over an apple. They were home. They were safe. He could read that much in the smile on Galahad’s face, and the cheerful tone on Percival’s lips. As they beckoned him back to the bench, he could be sure of one thing: They were here and they were his, only if for a night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm Knight-Of-The-Kitchen on tumblr, please come yell at me there! [Knight-of-the-Kitchen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/knight-of-the-kitchen)
> 
> Comments and Kudos much appreciated, as always, and there may be more going in this collection at a later time!


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